


Quintessence of Dust

by Misterkingdom



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, I might come back to it though, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misterkingdom/pseuds/Misterkingdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bull?”</p><p>“Yea?”</p><p>“Let him in.”</p><p> “No.”</p><p> “Bull.”</p><p>“It’s my job to send you to back to Tevinter in one piece, not pieces. If you start letting in strangers with eleven inch serrated blades strapped to them and you die, I won’t get paid.”  </p><p>“They are ten inches.” Cole said. “And they only kill people who will hurt me and the small. I lost them last night but they called for me."</p><p>“So, he’s dangerous and crazy.” Iron Bull said.</p><p>“Bull, if he gets out of hand, you kill him. You’re good at that.” Dorian said. “Open the gate.”<br/>*<br/>An AU in which Dorian saves a young vagrant named Cole and offers him refuge in his home. The young man turns out to be more than he appeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quintessence of Dust

The night was as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean. The lanterns lining the streets of the masked city were faint fireflies. It almost dark enough to sleep without closing his eyes. The silence was interrupted by the shattering of the sea on the rocks. The wind was summer calm and carried salt of the ocean.

Dorian was bitterly happy walking alone along the city streets, his mind muddled with drink. He quoted from poems low to himself. The tavern closed down on him, sending him on his way home. He held on to his staff like an elder, depending on it to keep him upright.

“This sniveling rat had his hand in my pocket. All my coin is gone.”

“Aye, break his fingers. That’ll teach him.”

“Good idea. Gimme your hand or I’ll do worse than break it. I'll cut it off.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no—it’s wrong, I didn’t—“

The voices cracked the silence of night. Dorian stilled. The misery was coming from a wound of an alley, too dark to see into. Two gravel filled voices and one atonal one, echoing young. Dorian lit his staff and steeled himself for what he would find.

The ragged men in ragged clothes corned a child who was baptized by mud and other things. He was crouched down and only illuminated by the dull lanterns the men carried.

“Gentlemen, it doesn't need to be this way.” Dorian said. “We could talk this through.”

The wake of the unwashed turned in unison.

“Turn away, this doesn't concern you.” The man closest to the boy said.

“Leave.” The other man with the lantern took a step toward Dorian.

“I was never good at doing what other’s wanted.” Dorian said.

The men scatter like rats from a sinking ship at the crack of his fire. When the smoke cleared, Dorian saw the boy cradling his head on his knees and rocking back and forth. He muttered things to himself.

Dorian crouched down beside him and placed his hand on the boy’s hallow boned back. The white light from Dorian’s staff lit the black corner of the alleyway. “It’s all right.”

The boy stilled and lifted his head to look Dorian. His straw hair was covered by a large hat. He had harlequin white skin and corpse blue eyes. He was scarecrow thin, his clothes were a mosaic of green leathers. The boy was a tangible obituary.

“Why did you help?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you help me?”

“Do I need a reason to not to ignore a grievous assault?”

“No one else helped.”

“Well, I'm not just anybody else.” Dorian said. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” The boy said. “But thank you for caring.”

“Not an issue. I love spending my evenings fighting random strangers after consuming copious amounts of brandy. It makes me feel savage, like I'm one of you southerners.”

The boy stood up. Dorian followed. They were same height. The boy never stopped watching him.

“My name is Cole.”

“Hello Cole. I’m Dorian of house Pavus.” He said. “So, Cole, did you rob those gentlemen?”

“No. They lost their gold after their pretty friend got tired, so tired. She jumped and they fell into drink. They can't remember.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I watch.” Cole said.

“You watched them drinking or did you watch her—“

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

Before Dorian could comment on the boy’s odd answer, he trailed his eyes down to the spreading red cloud on Cole’s ribs. “You are not all right young man. Come with me.”

The room he rented had melting walls and a spider’s web of tattered curtains. It was furnished with a nightstand, a wilting chair, and a cot meant for two. The lanterns had a winking glow. It smelled vaguely of piss. He wished he’d gotten a better place.

“Sit on the bed and take off your shirt.” Dorian said as he pulled the crooked chair to the corner of the cot. The young man did as he was told. The fruit rotten bruise painted his bumpy ribs yellow and red. “This isn't too bad.”

“It hurts. It hurts. Why does everything hurt?”

“Shush now. It’ll all be over soon.”

It takes no time to heal the boy. The young man ran his spider leg finger over his own pallor ribs. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine.” Dorian said. “Do try harder to avoid trouble.”

“I will.” The young man watched him for a while, his face a hallow mask. He laid on the bed and stared at the rotting ceiling. “You are tired.”

“Yes. Consuming large amounts of brandy does that to you.”

“You can lay in here, with me, if you like.” Cole said. “This bed has only been slept in once.”

“Ah, you’ve been here before?”

“Yes. Evangeline lets me stay here on the bad days. She is pretty and nice. Will you lie down?”

 He should get back to the villa, though right now it’s filled with the jovial laughter of the Bull’s chargers and Iron Bull isn't very good company drunk.

“Scoot over, will you?”

The boy complied. Dorian climbed in the bed, not bothering to remove his boots. The boy laid stock still, straight as an arrow next to him. Dorian watched the mosaic of water stains above them. The lanterns died out until they were in the shimmery dark. It wasn't the first time he lay in a seedy inn with a stranger though he was usually naked when doing so. The aurora of the boy is different. He was sturdy and warm beside him.

“Young man, what’s—“

The boy straddled him, anchoring him down by holding on to the headboard. He was deceptively heavy. His expression was lost in the dark. He rocked his hips experimentally against Dorian’s. Dorian made a low noise as his stomach sunk. He put his hand on the boy’s slender hips to stop the torture. The boy complied.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked.

“You want this. This is why you helped me and took me here.”

“It certainly isn't.”

“Then why?”

“Do I need a reason?” Dorian said before removed his hands from the young man’s hips. “Please get off.”

 The boy rolled off and sprawled out next to him. “I don't understand.”

Dorian sighed. He should've known. “You warm gentlemen’s bed for money, don't you?”

“Sometimes. On bad days.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.” The boy said flatly. “How old are you?”

“Uh, Thirty eight.”

“I've made love to older.”

“I see. You seem nice. How did you fall into this state of affairs?”

“How does anyone end up anywhere?”

“I see.” Dorian said. “You must've witnessed great deal of sadness in your short life.”

“Yes, like you have.”

“Excuse me?”

“You keep coming back, searching, seeking, but warmth is fleeting. How many from the taverns? Too many. They leave nothing but bruises on your body.”

Dorian sat up. “Have you been watching me?”

“Yes. You come to Val Royeaux like summer comes and leave when it grows cold. Should I stop?”

“You very well should.” Dorian said. He laid back down against his better judgement. “This is rather odd. Why haven't I noticed you?”

“Nobody noticed me until you did.” Cole turned to lie on his side, facing Dorian. He placed his chin on the mage’s shoulder while he slid his other hand across Dorian’s chest until he got to his shoulder and held it. The boy was warm, despite his willowy appearance. Dorian breathed in and let the tide rush over him. He gripped the boy’s elbow and held.The boy smelled of winter nights in the forest. His coarse hair scratched Dorian’s cheek. Dorian lets his eyes drift close.

The golden light of morn spilled through the shredded curtains. The bed was empty. Dorian sat up, his head pulsing with pain. There was no sign that the boy ever existed. Dorian got up and smoothed his clothes. His wallet was missing. Of course.

Dorian took his staff and left the coffin of a room.

“C’est La Vie.”

*

Cole sat on the brick rooftop of the inn and watched the lord travel down the sun washed street until he was no more than a bird against the sun. He laid back. The clouds sailed over head, virgin white cracking the feeble blue. The winds carried the scent of the fresh bread from the many bakeries, mixing with the salt of the sea. Seagulls sang to the melody of the diving bells. The ostentation of citizens’ conversation created a dull roar. He closed his eyes, breathed in held it until his lungs burned.

Dorian Pavus had skin of burnt gold. His hair was a shiny obsidian. He was lost in silk iridescent robes. He’s known for burning brightly and talking too much without giving much away. He was glittering in a gilded cage, too trusting under indifferent stars. _May be the devil, and the devil hath power T' assume a pleasing shape. Yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, as he is very potent with such spirits abuses me to damn me._

Everyone wanted something. Everyone was fair game. He was not wrong to take what he did. Cole traced his finger over the path where Dorian’s silk petal touch and blessed him. He had helped him and then rejected him. Why? Cole turned on his side and brought his knees to his chest.  

Dorian Pavus helped and wanted nothing in return.

*

The Iron Bull drinks his booze straight, keeps weapons strapped to the furniture and holds his head high. He commands a mercenary group by the name of Bull’s Chargers. Iron Bull and his knife-eyed boys were hired by Halward Pavus to protect his son when Dorian was out of Tevinter. Dorian and the Iron Bull had been fucking recreationally ever since.

Dorian lounged on the couch the minute he walked in and watched the Iron Bull. Iron Bull was separated from him by a tea table. The Qunari had his boots on the table while reclining in an arm chair with his forearm over his own eye—sleeping. A small conglomerate of jars and bottles collected around him.

 “How much did you lose this time?” Dorian asked. The Iron Bull took his arm off his eye to watch Dorian.

“Morning to you too.” Iron Bull said, stretching. “I actually won a good amount once the boys got really drunk.”

“Splendid.”

“The money’s going to good use.”

“Yes. Booze and more booze.”

“Is there a greater cause?” Iron Bull said as he sat upright in the chair.  “So, I haven’t seen you look this pissed since I cleaned up spilled booze with your bustling whatever. Any reason?”

“I got into a fight. And I got robbed. Why does my father pay you again?”

“Hey, if you don’t like it, stop sneaking out.” Iron Bull shrugged. “Me and my boys went looking for you.”

“Oh? How long until you gave up?”

“Until the sun came up, Dorian.” Iron Bull said. “Seriously, that thing you do where you don’t tell me where you’re going? Makes it hard for me to do my job.”

“I—well, uh, yes. You have me there.” Dorian said. “Though, sometimes, a man’s got to have his solitude.”

“Is that what you call getting drunk with serving boys?” Iron Bull asked.

“Is there a better name?” Dorian smirked before getting up and going to his room. He stripped off his night draped clothes and laid in his bed. He pulled the sheets over his head to stave off the terrible sunlight.

“So, rough night. Want to talk about it?” Iron Bull said from the doorway. Iron Bull was fleet footed for a Qunari.

 “Not really, no.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be all sulky.” Iron Bull said. He peeled the sheet off of Dorian. Dorian groaned and was about to curse him, until the Qunari’s strong, sun-hot arms surrounded his waist. The large chest pressed against his back. Iron Bull stroked Dorian’s abdomen. Dorian breathed deep as his stomach fluttered. He turned in the Qunari’s arm and tucked his head under the Qunari’s chin. 

“I got into a fight with men who surrounded a young lad.” He mumbled into Iron Bull’s chest. “I fixed him up and he robbed me. The end.”

“Yeah, well, it goes that way sometimes.”

“Oh, Bull! What would I do without your infinite wisdom?”

“Fop.” Iron Bull’s lips caressed the crown of his head.

“You smell awful.” Dorian ran his fingers up the raised, looping scars on Iron Bull’s side.

“You love it.” Iron bull’s chuckle vibrated through Dorian’s being. “Hey, watch those hands. They’ll get you into trouble.”

“I like trouble.” Dorian said as he hooked his knee around Iron Bull’s side and wrapped his arms around the Qunari’s thick neck.

Iron Bull placed his huge, hot hand on the small of Dorian’s back. “You got it, then.”

 

*

“I can't come in unless you open.” The voice was rushed and low.

“Not gonna happen. Give me his purse and I’ll give it to him.” Iron Bull said.

The room was soaked red and gold by the draining sunlight. Dorian was stolen from sleep by the commotion below his window. He rubbed the fog from his eyes and got to his feet. He pulled on his robe and made his way down the path from his summer villa. The boy is gripping the gates so hard, his knuckles are red. Iron Bull watched the boy from the other side.

“No. It has to be me, it can't be you but me.” The boy said. He leaned his forehead against the bars of the gate, blocking the view of his face behind a comically large hat.

“Not a chance.” Iron Bull said.

 “Gentlemen.” Dorian came to stand beside Iron Bull. “What is the matter?”

The boy’s pale eyes snapped to his. “I'm Cole. I came because you helped. I was small and you noticed. The men were going to hurt me and you stopped them. You fixed me. You remember me? I remember you. You saved me. Here.”

Cole stuck his hand through the bars. Dorian’s wallet was dirty and tattered.

“It's empty.” Dorian said.

The boy looked down. “I’m very sorry I took your royals.”

Dorian crept closer to the bars. Iron Bull put his large hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Hey, Mage boy. Maybe it’s not a good idea to get within killing distance of the weird, squirrelly kid.”

“Oh, come now. The poor dear is trying to extend an olive branch.”

“He has weapons.”

“What? Where?”

“Two daggers, strapped on his back. He knows how to use them.”

Dorian turned to fully view the boy. Cole was still a prisoner behind the bars, his hand stuck between them. He was still dangling the bag. He stood still as a statue. His strange hat covered his face, until it didn't. The boy watched him. The young man’s hair was as shaggy and as yellow as straw. Cole’s skin is paper thin and harlequin white. His straw hair stuck to his forehead. His face a plastic mask. His scarecrow thin frame is weighted down by a mosaic of sage colored leathers, too much to tell if he was breathing. Under his pale blue eyes were bruised red with sleeplessness.

“Cole, was it? Why are you here?” Dorian asked.

“I wanted to give it back because you helped.”

 “It’s all right.” Dorian said.

“This is the kid you told me about earlier.” Iron Bull said.

“Yes.”

“Well, take your purse and tell him to go.”

“It’s not a purse. It is a wallet.” Dorian said.

“Take your silky whatever so he could go.”

“Bull?”

“Yea?”

“Let him in.”

 “No.”

 “Bull.”

“It’s my job to send you to back to Tevinter in one piece, not pieces. If you start letting in strangers with eleven inch serrated blades strapped to them and you die, I won’t get paid.”  

“They are ten inches.” Cole said. “And they only kill people who will hurt me and the small. I lost them last night but they called for me.”

 “So, he’s dangerous and crazy.” Iron Bull said.

“Bull, if he gets out of hand, you kill him. You’re good at that.” Dorian said. “Open the gate.”

*

They enter the foyer. Dorian on the couch while Iron Bull sat on the other side of the room near the balcony. Cole stood in the middle of the room, one pale hand clutching Dorian’s wallet while the other one rubbed against his face. He was slightly rocking back and forth.

The slave he bought from home walked in with a bright smile. She was dark and had full, lips.

“Portia, will you get me a glass of Pinot Noir?”

“Lord Dorian, you haven't eaten yet.”

“And a piece of toast.” Dorian said. “Bull?”

“Nah, ate already.”

“Cole?”

“No.”

“Well, the toast and wine for me.”

“Very good, my lord.” Portia bowed her head before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Cole, you can sit.” Dorian said pulling the bear fur blanket on his lap, making a spot for him.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn't understand. Here.” Cole said. He stuck out the wallet again. Dorian took it gently.

“Thank you. It takes a brave man to right wrongs.”

“I am not brave. I just don't want to be bad anymore. You helped. I want to help too. You could've gotten hurt because of me but you didn't worry. You willfully, went. Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” Dorian smiled. “I've gotten into worse scrapes with my gardener.”

“Tell me why you did it? I am no one.” Cole said.

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same.” Dorian said.

“I—I would, though I should. I can help everyone, not myself. You are bright, Dorian. You glow. I don’t.”

“What is with the riddles, kid?” Iron Bull asked.

“It isn't a riddle. I can say what I mean without you understanding.” Cole said. “I should go.”

 “Wait. Do you have a home to go to?”

“Everywhere I am is home.”

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dorian stood and stopped within an arm’s length of the boy. Iron Bull didn’t flinch or tense, but Dorian knew him too well to assume he wasn’t paying attention. The boy stared down at the floor. His nails dug into his palms. The boy last night was warm and confident. His face his now wroth with a tight despair Dorian has never seen before.

“You’re tired.” Dorian said.

“I am always tired.”

“Why don’t you stay here?”

“What?” Iron Bull sat up.

“Why?” Cole asked.  
  
“I'm curious about you. I have never met anyone like you.”

“I'm curious about you, too.”

“Then it’s settled?”

“What’s settled?” Cole asked.

“Nothing.” Iron Bull said as he got up and stopped beside Dorian. Cole took a step back in the wake of the giant. “Vint, this is where I draw the line.”

“Bull, what harm can there be? The most he could do is lift the silverware and he would be doing me a favor by doing so. It’s rather tacky.”

“Not the time.” Iron Bull said.  

“You are forgetting, I am a mage of no small talent. I can certainly take a rogue.”

“He is not just a rogue. There is something wrong about him, Dorian.”

Cole’s eyes never left Dorian’s. “I want to know you. I will stay. I will be tiny, small, out of the way, until I know you.”

“Know me? What do you mean?”

“Bright, like the fish that kill you if you eat them. Can't hate you for hiding if you burn so brilliantly.” Cole said. “That’s what you are, Dorian. I want to know why.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Iron Bull groaned. “Is this not freaking you out? At all?”

Dorian couldn’t push down the intrigue. “Bull, where’s your sense of danger? It’s been stale, we can use something to shake it up. You want to stay, right Cole?”

 “I—yes. Thank you.” Cole said.

“Splendid. Look how polite he is.”

Iron Bull groaned. “It’s like talking to a loud colored wall. Kid, if you even lift a finger toward those daggers—“

“You’ll cut me down.” Cole said. “Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him. Ludus or Eros? Too soon, too soon to know.”

“Oh good, he’s doing that thing again.” Iron Bull said.

“Curious indeed. This will be fun.” Dorian took the chalice off the tray Portia handed him.

 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> 1) EDIT: I spoiled the ending here because I didn't think I was going to go back to it but reading it again gave me some new ideas so I'm going to try to finish it after I'm done with my Dorian/Cullen fanfic  
> 2) The title is from Hamlet.  
> 3) "May be the devil, and the devil hath power T' assume a pleasing shape. Yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, as he is very potent with such spirits abuses me to damn me." This is also from Hamlet.  
> 4) I didn't get anyone to Beta it because I didn't intend to post it but then I thought YOLO so here it is.  
> 5) I'm still working on my Dorian/Cullen fic. Hopefully I can have a good chapter up by Thursday. Wish me luck :(  
> 6) Plushyrobot helped me with everything. Praise her Eurasian light at plushyrobot.tumblr.com


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